


all hail the lucky ones (I refer to those in love)

by NoRationalThoughtRequired



Series: disturb the universe [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ciri POV, Ciri is awkward and adorable, Established Relationship, F/F, First Dates, Fluff, Found Family, Ice Skating, Light Angst, M/M, bookshop au, everyone is happy and in love, mentioned Lambert/Aiden - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoRationalThoughtRequired/pseuds/NoRationalThoughtRequired
Summary: Ciri likes to imagine that every time it snows, her grandparents are sayingwe still love you, we’re glad they’re there to love you.So Ciri likes the snow; she feelslovedwhen it snows.She looks around her now, at all of her favorite people all in one place, and it’s cold outside, so cold, but she feels a thread of warmth start to curl in her stomach and slowly branch out through her.Or: The snow falls, her friends and family are all together and all happy, and Ciri contemplates love. (A Bookshop AU fic)
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Cerys an Craite, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: disturb the universe [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772170
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	all hail the lucky ones (I refer to those in love)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, more of the sugar & spice bingo fics! This is another one set in the bookshop AU, and it is _extremely_ soft and fluffy, as per usual for that AU!
> 
> Prompt: Ice Skating. Title is from Pearl Jam's "Hail Hail"

The snow falling down around her is rapidly sliding from a flurry--isolated snowflakes merrily dancing their way down to the earth--straight on into something more dedicated, and Ciri tips her face up to the night sky, a slight smile drifting across her face as the flakes land on the tip of her nose and the wisps of her hair that have escaped from her knit cap.

She sighs, happily, pleased that the weather has taken the command of _six more weeks of winter_ seriously and obliged with another true snowfall. Perfect timing, really, happening just as the park managers had started making rumblings about it being time to dismantle the ice rink in favor of the spring that was supposedly quickly encroaching.

She’s glad that eventuality can be put off until another day.

Ciri likes the snow; she always has.

One of her earliest memories, one of her only ones of her grandparents, is of the three of them together: the backyard of Cintra’s mayoral mansion turned into a field of snowdrifts, her pink parka and earmuffs bright against the white of the snow and the slightly darker shade of her hair, her Grandpapa Eist’s face merry as he taught her how to roll the snow to form the base of a snowman, her Grandmama’s long-suffering yet fond eye roll as the afternoon descended into the chaos of an all-out snowball war. It’s only fleeting images that she remembers. Just flashes, feelings. Love and comfort surrounding her, keeping her warm.

She misses them, her grandparents. Desperately, sometimes. And every time it snows, she likes to look up, likes to imagine that her grandparents whom she barely knew (and her birth parents whom she never knew) are up there somewhere, watching her as she grows. They watch as Geralt and Yennefer help her with her homework and sing her to sleep, as Uncle Lambert dons a purple tutu and helps her learn her ballet routine before her dance recital, as Uncle Eskel cheers when she breaks her first board in karate class, as Triss picks her up from her honor society meeting and grins when she shows off the A she made on her algebra test, as Jaskier helps her pick a piece for her solo and ensemble competition and promises to accompany her, as Grandpapa Vesemir teaches her to drive with his teeth clenched and a white-knuckled grip on his seatbelt.

She likes to imagine that every time it snows, her grandparents are saying _we still love you, we’re glad they’re there to love you_.

So Ciri likes the snow; she feels _loved_ when it snows.

She looks around her now, at all of her favorite people all in one place, and it’s cold outside, so cold, but she feels a thread of warmth start to curl in her stomach and slowly branch out through her.

There’s Dara and Marillka and their other band friends gathered over by the hot chocolate stand. All of them are clad in a riot of brightly colored knit wear, all of them are laughing at some story Marillka’s telling, complete with wide eyes and waving arms.

Across the rink, Uncle Lambert introduces someone to Uncle Eskel. The man is tall, thin, and Ciri can tell even from the distance that while his gaze is sharp, his eyes are kind. One of Uncle Lambert’s hands rests on the small of the man’s back, and he can’t quite figure out what to do with his other one, whether he should run it through his hair (forgetting about his hat), whether he should stuff it in his pocket, whether he should set it on his hip. He’s _nervous_ , and Ciri knows, instantly, that this man is the mysterious Aiden, and Uncle Lambert has finally worked up the courage to introduce him to the family. He’s very handsome. Ciri grins to herself and makes a note to gently tease Uncle Lambert about this later, after she gives them both hugs, of course.

Her parents are both out on the ice, making spectacles of themselves with their terrible skating. Her father, at least, has improved somewhat over the months that the ice rink has been open, regularly coming after work to skate with her and Jaskier.

(“I know you kind of hate this, Geralt,” Jaskier had said earlier that evening, fiddling with the buttons on his peacoat before they all made the trek from the bookshop up to the park.

Geralt had pressed his lips to Jaskier’s forehead and then put on his own knit cap, a black and pink and purple monstrosity that had been Ciri’s first knitting project under Triss’s tutelage. It was lumpy and misshapen and admittedly ugly as all hell, and Geralt loved it and wore it every day. “I don’t hate it.”

“Okay, well, you don’t _like_ it.”

Geralt had scrunched his nose up, and Jaskier got that look on his face, that look that screamed _you are **adorable** and I am having too many emotions for my heart to contain_. They fall more and more in love with each other every day. Ciri adores being allowed to witness it, she truly does.

“I don’t really like it,” Geralt had eventually agreed. “But _you_ like it, and I like spending time with you, and Ciri likes it, and I like spending time with her and you together, and I can handle bruised tailbones and sore knees and hauling myself up off the ice ten times every five minutes if it means I get to spend time with two of my favorite people.” He then gestured towards the rest of their family. “They’re all okay, I guess.”

“High praise, indeed,” Yennefer had said, dryly, and Geralt had smiled at her, a small smile, but a warm one, and her parents might not still be married, and her mother might, in fact, be tiptoeing around the idea of getting _re_ -married, but there is still so much love between them, and that thought has always left Ciri feeling warm all the way down to her toes.)

Now, Geralt manages a shaky spin, and it’s probably the slowest spin any adult has ever attempted on an ice rink. His posture is terrible, and he looks like he’s about to tip right on over, but he remains upright, somehow, and when he completes the spin and stays standing, Jaskier clasps Geralt’s hands in his, his bright blue gloves surrounding Geralt’s black ones, and the look on both of their faces is so _adoring_ , it almost makes Ciri’s heart burst with the sheer amount of joy that both of them radiate.

She looks over, ten feet down the ice, where Yennefer has, once again, toppled over. Triss lies in a heap next to her, and Ciri can tell that it’s _laughter_ that shakes their shoulders. Yennefer reaches out a hand and wraps one of Triss’s curls around her finger, and Triss beams at her and whispers something. Ciri can’t quite tell what it is, but there’s something about the two of them, sprawled out together, having absolutely no regard for the other patrons of the ice rink, laughing at their own ineptitude, uncaring of the snow that dusts Triss’s hair and Yennefer’s coat, staring into each other’s eyes as they giggle like schoolgirls, something that makes them _luminous_ , and _oh_ , _yes_ , Ciri gets it now, of course, _of course_ that’s what it is.

It’s _love_.

Away from it all, there’s Grandpapa Vesemir sitting on a bench halfway around the rink from Ciri. Earlier, he had taken one look at the ice skates and then down at his arthritic knees and declared himself quite content to be the keeper of numerous purses and bags and hats. Now, he sits and watches his extended family be carefree and content, love surrounding all of them, and when he strokes his bearded chin and smiles benevolently, Ciri likes to think that he’s saying to himself, _ah this, I’ve done well_.

Ciri sighs and smiles to herself, for how can she not, with everyone she loves in the world so joyous in this moment?

The snow starts to pick up even more, and Dara and Marillka are still over by the hot chocolate stand, and _oh_ , that certainly does sound good right about now, but just as she’s contemplating getting up from her bench, she hears the sound of ice skates carefully moving through snow and a soft, “Hey, Ciri.”

She looks up and immediately has to fight the urge to blush, to look away, to dive into the nearest snowbank and bury herself in it. “Hey, Cerys.”

Her voice does not waver, and Ciri is unreasonably proud of herself for that.

Cerys moved to Cintra over the past summer and shares three classes with Ciri. She is impossibly smart at both physics and pre-calculus, she is an impossibly good flute player, and she is impossibly beautiful. There are snowflakes in the plait of her auburn hair and also on her eyelashes, and oh, there are her freckles, she has _so many_ freckles, and she’s standing here, talking to Ciri, when she could be talking to _anyone else_ , and Ciri absolutely wants to die.

“May I sit?” Cerys asks.

“Sure.” Ciri’s still managing to speak the English language, this is great, everything is going great.

There’s movement in Ciri’s peripheral vision, and she looks down and Cerys holds two steaming cups of hot chocolate in her hands, and this means something, and Ciri has no idea _what_. “I was talking about you with Dara just now, and he mentioned that you think that this hot chocolate stand makes the best hot chocolate in Cintra, and I thought I would try it, and you know? I think you’re right. So I bought you one, too.”

Cerys holds out one of the cups, and Ciri’s brain has gotten stuck somewhere around _I was talking about you with Dara just now_ and has decided to do nothing but play those words on a loop, and it’s all she can do to reach out and curl her fingers around the cup. The tips of her gloves brush the tips of Cerys’s, and she thinks that it’s a good thing the cold weather has them all rosy-cheeked because her face feels like it’s on fire.

She should thank Cerys for her thoughtfulness, that is absolutely what she should do, that would be good manners, but what she says instead is, “You were talking about me with Dara?”

“I was.”

“Why?”

Cerys laughs, and there is not a hint of embarrassment in it. “I needed his opinion on something, and I asked him a hypothetical question. I said, ‘Hypothetically, if I were to ask Ciri if she would like to go skating with me and consider it a spontaneous and impromptu first date, with an actual _planned_ first date later, would she throw hot chocolate in my face?’ And he said, ‘I don’t want to give anything away, but Ciri thinks that this hot chocolate stand makes the best hot chocolate in Cintra.’ So then _I_ said, ‘That means I should buy her a hot chocolate?’ And then _he_ said, ‘It would not be a waste of money.’ So here I am with a hot chocolate for you. Would you like to go skating with me and consider it as a first date, with a _planned_ first date later?”

There is so much information there, Ciri’s brain whirs with trying to process it, and there’s not only _that_ , there’s also the way Cerys sits so close and the way that she smiles, so soft and gentle, and at _Ciri_ , too, and it’s all so much, she needs some clarification. “You want to go on a date with me?”

“I do, yes. Very much.”

“But we don’t know each other very well.”

Cerys shrugs, utterly unconcerned. “We can _get_ to know each other. That’s what dating’s all about, right? But I know enough to know I’d like to go on a date with you. You always make A’s on your physics and pre-calc tests, but Marillka says you also spend hours in study groups helping people who aren’t as good at math. Last semester, during marching season, you were super-patient with the freshmen in your section who couldn’t quite get the hang of playing their clarinets and moving their feet at the same time. So you’re smart and you’re talented, but you’re also nice. Those are three qualities I very much like in a girl. Also--” she shrugs again, and this time, it’s accompanied by a very becoming blush ”--I think you’re super-cute and I’d maybe like to kiss you sometime.”

“Oh.”

Cerys smiles at her, patiently, but there’s a hint of a strain to it now, and Ciri knows she can’t just leave it at that, she has got to actually _say something_ of substance, she must force her brain and her mouth to work together in concert. “I want to go on a date with you too,” she says, all in a rush, and the face that Cerys makes as she deciphers the individual words and Ciri’s acquiescence in the dating plan dawns on her is too precious. “You ask really good questions in physics, and Dara’s in your English class and he said your recitation of the _to be or not to be_ soliloquy brought tears to his eyes, and two days ago in band you smiled at me after my solo, and I think I’d maybe like to kiss you sometime, too.”

There’s a sparkle in Cerys’s eyes, and Ciri feels herself starting to drown in it.

“Wanna finish these hot chocolates and then go skate?”

Ciri smiles. “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

The snow falls around them, and a shiver runs through her, and it’s cold, very cold, but there’s love here in this place. It surrounds her and them and her family, and where there’s love, there’s warmth. When she shivers a second time, Cerys moves closer to her, their shoulders brushing, and maybe it’s not so cold, no, not at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
